


Never Ending Math Equation (Nick Scratch)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Abuse, Bullying, Depression, Gen, Self-Hatred, Self-Isolation, in passing), mentions of familial death (nick’s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 15:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18607189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: summary: nick is enamored with you. you’re too inside your own head to notice. then, he finds out your secret and everything goes to hell.





	Never Ending Math Equation (Nick Scratch)

You learn quickly when you grow up as an outsider. When you’re treated like an outlier in a math problem you learn not to be seen. You learn to be unavailable and closed off. You learn to find the darkest corner and blend in. You learn to watch.

At the Academy, it’s all different. You can’t blend in, because everyone is trying to do the same. You can’t don black and hide in a dark corner because the corner is already occupied. And everyone wears black. You’re always seen when everyone looks the same as you do. It’s harder to avoid the wondering eyes. There’s a set of eyes, however, that you never catch on you. He lingers away, in corners bathed in light and other people, but you never see him. You only ever see the side of his face after he’s already looked away.

So it stands to reason that when rumors about a dance, a formal dance, start circulating you decide you’re not going. For the sake of your self esteem... It’s easier to hole yourself away in your room to memorize incantations and study for an upcoming test. It’s not your fault if nobody asks you because you’re vocal about your plans to study, and it’s certainly not your fault if you have to turn someone down because… Well, you have plans. Studying plans. Plans to not go to the dance and embarrass yourself to death when you show up alone.

Except, of course, other people have plans too. You didn’t count on that. You don’t ever count on that because, well, you’re so used to being alone. You’re used to blending in. Math problem, outlier, alone.

But every single thing is different at the Academy. Every single Goddamn thing.

You find this out the hard way two weeks before the dance. You’re walking, matching pace with Sabrina, when another pair of footsteps fall in line with yours. At first, you ignore them. Stuff like that happens a lot in the halls at the Academy, but usually they disappear in a few seconds. These, however, do not. And Sabrina knows their owner and promptly begins a conversation with them.

“Nick.” She rolls from the front to the back of her feet, “Are you going to the dance?” She gives you a pointed look and you roll your eyes, stepping away from them to lean against the wall. If she’s going to chat, you’re going to give her the space to do so. “I’m going, I think I’m going to bring Theo.”

“Ah,” Nick’s voice is clear in the loud hallway and his eyes never slide away from your face. Not that you’d notice, of course. If his eyes are on you, your eyes are never on him. “I was thinking about it. Shame you’re bringing Theo, I would love to ask you.”

“I’ve already said no.” There’s still humor in Sabrina’s voice. “Nick, you have to find someone to go to the dance with.” Fed up and hungry you push off the wall and find your way to Sabrina’s side once more. You know Nick. Well, no. You know of Nick. There’s a difference and you’ve spent long enough with Sabrina to hear about Nick and his various partners around the school.

“Perhaps Nick could take the Weird Sisters. All three of them. At the same time. It wouldn’t be the first time, Nick, now would it?” You cock your head at Nick, smiling softly. “Now, I don’t know about you, Sabrina, but I’m hungry. The canteen will be full before we know it. Shouldn’t we go?” You don’t leave her much room to decide before you’re marching past Nick. He snatches your wrist, swinging you around to face him and… For a moment you’re enchanted. Nick is looking down on you, smiling softly, and he’s just… So handsome.

You snap out of it really quickly. You know better. Math problem, outlier, alone. It’s always been that way and it must stay that way, no matter how handsome Nicholas Scratch is. He says your name, slowly, like he’s cherishing it and a flush crawls up your cheeks. “Are you going to the dance? I’m sure you have suitors clambering to take you.” One sentence, that’s all it takes. One sentence to make you remember that you’re not special, no you certainly aren’t. Not to Nick. Not to anyone. You’re nothing but an outlier, a math problem, a freak, alone, nothing. The walls around you seem too close, his hand seems too hot on your wrist, and you hear everything like it’s echoing through an underwater cave. You realize that your wrist is still trapped in his hold and jerk it out, marching past him. The sudden movement makes realization dawn on you: Nick was making fun of you for not having any real friends.

You clench your teeth as you make your way through the halls until you find the back door. It’s a service door, for the teachers, but nobody chastises you for using it. It opens to the rolling woods behind the Academy and you get lost in the feeling of the magic in the earth below your feet. You trek into the woods, still burning with anger, and then Nick appears in front of you. He steps out from behind a tree like he’s been there the whole time. It’s so easy to be angry at Nick, but you hide it. You always hide it.

Math problem, you remind yourself.

“What do you want, Nick?” You breeze past him like your boots aren’t catching on fallen branches, like brambles aren't sticking you through your clothes and spilling your blood. You’re not being as careful as you usually are when you take these expeditions into the forest, and you can blame Nick. There’s something about him that makes you falter.

“I want to talk to you.” He, again, falls into step with you easily. His hands are tucked into his pocket and his brow is pulled heavy over his dark eyes. “You ran out on me.” He sounds concerned and you resist the urge to spit at his feet. How dare he! How dare he pretend to care. How dare he have a compassionate voice, a soft spoken way about him. You’re angry, really angry, but you remain impassive. You’re sick of witches at the Academy pretending that they care only to turn on you later. It’s a sick cycle of bullying you thought only mortals took part in.

“Yeah, I did.” You say, turning abruptly at the stream that’s so familiar to you. You almost led Nick to your spot - then he would know. Then everyone would know. “It’s because I don’t want to talk to you. That’s usually what people walking away means.”

Nick grabs your elbow and stops you again. You face him, crossing your arms. There’s silence for a heartbeat; nothing but the sounds of the woods and the low hum of magic from the trees. “Why don’t you want to talk to me?” And he says it like it’s a genuine question. Like everyone wants to talk to him.

It’s true, though. Nick is a popular guy but not just because he’s attractive. It’s because he’s kind, compassionate, loyal. Well, at least that’s what you’ve heard. You’re not sure who he is because you only talk to Sabrina. You don’t talk to anyone for your own protection. “Maybe,” You seeth, stomping your foot, “Maybe I don’t want to talk to a narcissistic nobody who thinks he owns the school because he’s the best conjurer the Academy has seen! Maybe I don’t want to get mixed up in whatever shit you have going with the Weird Sisters because they’re already on my back for everything I do.” You stomp your foot again if only to distract Nick from the mistyness of your eyes. “You don’t want to be friends with me Nick, and I’m sick of people pretending they actually want to know me.”

Your eyes find the two birds perched above him, looking down on him. “You should be more careful about how much time you waste in the astral realm, Nick. It would be a shame if the worst witch at the school killed the best.” He disappears and you sit where you stand, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself.

That was the most of yourself that you’ve ever shown to anyone at the Academy. Nick had found a hole in your armor and wormed his way in. You try to shake the thought out of your head and think about whether or not Sabrina would need your help finding a dress for the dance. You hoped to the devil that she didn’t need your help.

You stay in the woods until dusk falls around you. You’re shivering, teeth chattering, but it doesn’t bother you. What does bother you is having to go back home. You’re certainly late already, so why bother calling a cab? Why bother asking Father Blackwood for a ride? Why not walk? You know the way well enough and you’re rested from your time in the woods… It won’t hurt. That’s what you decide to do. You collect your bag from just outside the backdoor and begin your journey to your house. It’ll take hours walking but maybe that’s what you need: the calm before the storm. Your walk would be the ocean disappearing before the tsunami.

The walk gives you time to think. Maybe Father Blackwood would grant you a room in the academy, away from the Weird Sisters. Maybe he would take you in himself. Or, maybe, he would kill your family and leave you with their estate. Your thoughts, wondering, find their way to Nick. You know about him in the way that one knows about a stranger they pass in the market. But you know his family is dead. He lives at the Academy with the other orphans. You know that he doesn't have a familiar but it’s not like you can boast that you do have one. You know that he’s dated the Weird Sisters.

And you know that he, for some reason, wants to be your friend.

You know that you, for some reason, are jealous that he is free from the bindings of biological family.

The realization that you are, in fact, jealous of his sole-survivor status makes sick pool in your stomach. It deadens your limbs and you stop in the street two blocks away from your family’s house in Greendale. Oh, so you’re not just an outlier, alone, and an unsolvable math problem but you’re an asshole, too. Great. Awesome.

You shake your head and continue home. The lights are still on in the towering, old house and you shiver. You don’t shiver because of the chill that’s fallen over you from the night, or the fog that’s beginning to roll in, but because the lights are on. Your family is awake. And they are waiting for you. “Satan give me the strength to endure this night and the willpower that I shall live to see the morn.” And you enter your house. The routine is silent: boots, bag, and coat by the door. Keys on the ring in the kitchen. Head down, through the hallway, to your basement room. Easy, quick, silent.

Except when it’s not.

Your father is the first to stop your routine. He’s standing in front of the door and watches you over his spectacles as you drop your bag, take off your coat, and remove your boots. He doesn’t let you pass into the kitchen. Your heart pounds as he holds out his hands for your keys and you drop them in his palm. He jerks his head toward the living room and you make your way on shaking legs. Your mother is waiting, sitting next to a tea set that is no doubt filled with nothing but stale air.

“You are late.” She says, voice cold and harsh. “I did not have my tea today.” You nod, closing your eyes, and your father closes the living room door. When you make it back to your room that night it’s nearly four in the morning. You have just enough time to patch yourself up before heading back to the Academy. You decide, casting a distracted incantation of a glamor, that you will never let anyone affect you again. The cuts and bruises aren’t worth it. No, nothing is worth it.

Especially not you.

You can’t get all of the bruises, though. The nastiest takes more power than you have, but it’s also the most visible. Your hands shake as you enter the Academy the next morning. Eyes land on you and the whispering begins behind hands and held up books. Maybe you can pass the sickly bruise as lack of sleep. It’s true enough and the bruise does crawl across your nose from the bags underneath your eyes. It brings with it a thick, cloudy migraine which makes you squint; it just really sells the lack of sleep explanation. Sabrina buys it easily enough, shaking her head as if she’s trying to shake away any other ideas.

You’re thankful for her all the way to your toes. She keeps people away all day long until just before your last class. Then you part with her, but not before she invites you to a coffee shop slash book store in Greendale. You wonder if you can sneak out or if you’ll have to astral project…

You agree anyway with a bright smile, face smarting with the movement. Sabrina enters her class and as soon as she’s out of sight you’re intercepted. It’s Nick, of course! His head is ducked low with worry and his eyebrows are pulled tight. The smirk on his lips is absent and instead he’s worrying his lower lip between his teeth. He says your name, desperate and afraid, and you don’t understand. Why does he care? Why is he pretending to care? Nobody cares, not even the people who were supposed to care: your parents. If they don’t care about you, if they don’t love you or cherish you, why would he? Why would Nick think any different of you?

Your father’s words from the night before seal your skin like sun washed leather. Nick’s worry doesn’t pierce it after you hear your parent’s words echoing in your ears again. It must be clear to Nick that you’ve closed off because he calls your name again. “Come on.” He drags you through the emptying halls until there’s an unlocked, unused classroom. “Hey, where did you get this bruise?” He presses the pad of his finger to the underneath of your eye and the pain zings through your body. It lights up every synapse that you have and you step back from Nick’s grasp.

“What do you want, Nick?” Your voice is harsh, hoarse from screaming. “I’m missing class. Again.”

He repeats your name for the third time. “These bruises. You didn’t have them yesterday.” He backs you against the big, oak desk that the teacher’s used and you take a deep, but shaky, breath. “Where did they come from? Someone in the woods? Some _thing_ in the woods?” His hands fall heavy on your shoulders and you flinch away. “After the woods? Did someone attack you in your home? Is your family okay?” You push Nick back, eyes ablaze with anger.

“They’re fine.” You snarl, “Just like I am.”

“No,” Nick presses, taking back his spot inches away from you, “You’re not fine. You haven’t been fine for a long time.”

Your snarl deepens. It’s so… So… Presumptuous of him! How dare he! He doesn’t know shit about your life. He doesn't know who you are. He hasn’t riddled you out like some sick, fucked up party favor. Like… Like… Like a math problem. He’s working on it, like the mortals who toil for years over one set up numbers and letters. He’s analyzing you, working you out. But it won’t happen. You won’t let it. Nobody has good intentions, you’ve learned. Not one single damned person.

Not even Nicholas Scratch. No, especially not Nicholas Scratch. “You don’t know anything.” You finally growl. “You know nothing. Nothing about me, nothing about my family, nothing about who I am or who I was or who I will be.” You punctuate your words with solid finger-jabs that land in the middle of his chest. He backs up with each one. “You know absolutely jack-shit about me, Nicholas Scratch.”

“Go to the dance with me.” He rushes out, keeping you in the classroom with two iron grips around your wrists. “You can’t sit this out. It’s the first dance the Academy has seen and it very well might be the last.” His words are the final blow to your already bruised ego. You jerk away from him, power rolling off of you in waves as the chairs and desks are pushed away from you.

“No!” You scream, hands clenched at your side, “Why would I do that? Hm? So that you can Carrie me?” You cock your head at Nick and another rush of power pushes the desks further away from you two. “So that the Weird Sisters can corner me and curse me? Is that what you’re playing at, Nicholas Scratch?” He holds his hands up but makes no move to speak. Perhaps he knows that you’re not done. Maybe it’s the tears in your eyes. Maybe it’s the incantation-less spells you’re doing. Maybe it’s the way your hands are still clenched so hard you’re drawing blood or the flush on your face. It’s something, and it keeps his mouth shut until you’re done talking. “I won’t play your game. I’ve got enough shit on my plate as it is and I can’t deal with this petty school bullshit.” Nick takes a few steps toward you, hands still up.

“Is that what you think?” His voice is soft and slow. “You think that this is some sick game to me? You think I’m working with the Weird Sisters to hurt you?”

“Yes!” Your voice is hoarse. “Yes, I do!”

“Why would you think that?” Nick’s voice hardens until he’s whispering. “Why on earth would you think that of me? Do you think I’m just some dick?” You stay silent as he approaches you, a lithe predator stalking his prey. It’s easier that way. If you shut down you don’t have to answer. He’ll get frustrated. He’ll leave you alone. Just like they all do. “Do you think that I hate you?”

“Everyone does.” Your voice breaks with your resolve. You crumble into yourself, wrapping your arms tightly around your torso. “Everyone hates me. I hate me. It’s not fair, but neither is life, Nick. I just have to live like this.” You close your eyes when he’s a breath away again, his hands ghosting over your biceps. “Please, just leave. Leave me alone.”

“No. I won’t.” He grabs you before you can run, locking you in place. “I’m not going to leave. Why do you think I stare at you all the time? Why do you think that I convinced Father Blackwood to have a formal dance? Why do you think that Spellman and I planned our paths to cross so many times?” Nick bends until he would be looking in your eyes if your eyes were open. “It’s because I want to get closer to you. It’s because I want to know you.”

“No. No, you don’t.”

“I do. I want to know you. I want to take you to the dance. I want to be your friend. I want…”

“Don’t say it.”

“I want to be more.”

“No, you don’t, Nick.” Instead of jerking away you just open your eyes. Nick is inches away. “You don’t want to know who I am. I’m not good.” He pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around your body like he’s trying to keep you together. “I’m not worth it.”

“You are. It’s like you’re… Like you’re a math problem and I want to solve it.” Nick’s words make you break and you collapse in his arms, gasping for breath. Grasping at your hair you can’t hear Nick calling your name over the roar in your ears. He knows, he knows! Nick knows what you go home to, the way they talk to you. Oh, how embarrassing. How debilitating. He’s going to tell everyone.

Nick holds you until you’re done crying and the glamor falls away. It took concentration, some part of your brain always focusing on keeping the bruises and cuts at bay but in Nick’s arms, crying like your life is ending, they’re all back. They litter your whole body. He gasps and connects the dots quickly, taking you further into his arms. “Oh, what are they doing to you? What have they done to you? What have they made you believe?”

“It’s hard not to believe it when it’s true, Nick.”

“Come on, let’s take you to Father Blackwood.”

You want to fight, but you can’t. You’re too weak, legs shaking and breath halting. Nick is basically carrying you through the empty halls, heaving you into his arms when you can’t walk anymore. He holds you close, tenderly, and doesn’t even wait to knock on Father Blackwood’s door. He just walks right in, holding you as you cry. Everything after that is a blur. Father Blackwood, seeing the state of you, jumps into action. A nurse takes you to the infirmary and Nick follows him to your house. You’re healed in a few seconds with the hands of a better healer on you and then you sleep.

Nick comes to visit, but you sleep through the night. He leans back in his chair and falls asleep, as well. It’s not until the morning when you wake up, hands twined together, that you think Nick may be serious. He wakes up a few seconds after you do, leaping to his feet to tower over you. His eyes are wide, frantic, and it makes your heart beat erratically in your chest. “Are you okay? Do you feel better?”

“Absolutely not.” You croak, pulling your hand away from Nick’s. “Why are you still here?” You can see the way he’s confused again, but now you can see the hurt underneath it. “Nothing against you, Nick, but why are you still here? After everything you’ve seen?” Nick takes the seat next to you again and clasps your hand in his. He doesn't let you pull away. Nick chews his words before he says them, eyebrows pulled tight and eyes cast toward the bed sheets over your body. “I don’t understand why you haven’t run yet.”

He takes a deep breath before closing his eyes. “I have been alone a long time. Everything I do, everything that I am, is so that I will never be alone. I live in this school, I dated the Weird Sisters. I befriend every witch who walks through the door. And then you walked through them. Then you showed up. Suddenly none of that mattered anymore.

“I was okay with being alone for short periods of time. Because when I looked at you I just checked out. I would hear Prudence or Agatha or Dorcus talking but I wouldn’t be listening. I was captivated by you, and then Sabrina noticed. That’s how we started talking. I kept following her, asking her about you. I know your favorite color and your favorite book. My only regret is that I didn’t ask you. Because I’m a coward. And then I saw you with that bruise and I realized that I am a coward. I’m not brave. And when you let go of that glamor I knew that you’re the brave one.

“Everyone thinks you’re so uptight, that you’re full of yourself but you’re not. You can’t stand yourself and that hurts me. I don’t understand how someone like you could think you’re… You’re nothing. Because you’re everything. I have had the biggest crush on you for weeks now. I just haven’t had the courage to talk to you. At least, not until Spellman’s cousin suggested I ask Father Blackwood to host a dance. And that I ask you to go with me.”

You don’t know what to say to him. Nobody has ever made that much effort to know you and now Nick has? What do you say to that? He doesn’t expect you to say anything, however. He just watches you with clear eyes as you tear up.  “Nick, I don’t know how to reply to that.”

“You don’t have to reply. I know that it’s hard to even imagine that someone feels like this… But please, believe me.” He presses a desperate kiss to your hand. “Believe me. I don’t care who you are. I like you. I want to be with you.” You look away, tears dripping down your face. “Please.”

“It’s not that simple, Nick.” You manage to say. “My whole life is about to change. I don’t know if… I’m not sure I can…” The unspoken ‘be with you’ doesn’t need to be said. “Everything is going to be so different.”

“I don’t care. I want to support you. I want to help you see yourself how I see you. I don’t even care if you don’t want to be with me. I really don’t. I don’t want to pressure you into doing something you don’t want, but you at least need more than one friend.” He takes a deep breath. “I’ll take you to the dance as a friend if you want. I’ll keep myself in check for you. But please, let me at least get you on the track to recovery.”

“I’m not worth it, Nick.” Even now, your voice wavers. Are you really not worth it? Is that true? Father Blackwood took care of your parents… There’s nothing they can do if you find your worth. Nick’s eyes, like always, are honest and clear. You know that you’ll never make it to a point where you don’t think you’re an outlier or a math problem because you’ve been this way for so long. You need help. You need help to get better. Of all the things you had done alone, and it was a lot of things over the years, you decide that you need to get help if you’re going to recover from all of the things your parents made you.

“Okay,” You agree, finally feeling like the outlier has been struck down and the math problem closer to a solution. “I’ll go to the dance with you, Nick. I’ll let you in. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’ve treated you this way.”

“No, you don’t have to apologize.” Nick smiles into your hand that’s still clasped between his. “You don’t ever have to apologize for this, not to me, not to Spellman. Not to anyone. I’ll curse anyone who says you should apologize. Do you feel guilty?”

“For what?”

“Yes.”

You giggle and whip under your eyes with the back of your free hand. “Incredibly.”

“Well, if you want to do something that makes it feel like you’re apologizing to quell the guilt I have an idea.” You cock your head, gesturing for Nick to go on. “Well, I happen to have a double date set up with Spellman and some mortal kid… And I am in need of company.” His grin is sharp and sharkish and you laugh again.

“Sure, Nick. I guess it would be a thank you for getting me out of there.”


End file.
